


Recall

by SpaceChimera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Brainwashing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Trust Issues, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, hopefully, if you couldn't already tell, there's gonna be violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceChimera/pseuds/SpaceChimera
Summary: You were just a normal civilian, nothing special about you, besides your friendship with Lena Oxton, an old Overwatch hero. You never thought you would do anything like she does, hell, you never thought you would even hold a gun, but Talon has ways of getting to people. And you happen to be the perfect link to Tracer.





	1. Chapter 1- Recall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking a chance with my fanfic! It's kinda based off of a story I was going to write with an OC, so I apologize if I accidently make anything too specific for an X Reader. Reader is mostly gender neutral, but may lean towards female, cause that's the only gender I have a lot of experience writing as. Anyway, I'll post more depending on how well this story does, hope you like it!

Overwatch was a symbol of hope, protection, a light in the darkness of a divided and cruel world. The heroes in its ranks were looked up to. Their catchphrases and code names went viral, posters were put up on every wall and kids dreamed of coming face to face with the people like Tracer, Reinhardt, and Jack Morrison. They symbolized what was good in the world, a hope for a better future. An inspiring message that there would always be someone to watch over the people that couldn't protect themselves.  
Morrison was the shining star, a man of determination and bravery, alongside Ana Amari, unfortunately, declared MIA years before Overwatch broke down. Statues depicting the strike commander were put up everywhere after his death, maybe assassination, but nobody knew what happened. Posters were faded and torn, but they still stood with him at the helm. Overwatch was the only organization to bring real hope to the world after the Omnic crisis, but once the secret of Blackwatch got out, everything ended for both sides. The covert organization had the same purpose, to protect innocent people, but sometimes the public didn't understand the things that had to be done for the greater good.

At first, it was simple protests, then eventually there was the Swiss HQ explosion. The public assumed it was a plot by Blackwatch to take out their counterpart, others had conspiracy theories involving Talon and the government. But nobody really knew what happened, nobody really knew who planned it all.

And that's what some of the Overwatch agents left alive were trying to figure out. Jesse McCree was one of them. Along with vigilante hero work, taking out Talon agents and dangerous criminals, McCree was on his way to figure out what the hell happened to ruin Overwatch and kill some of his closest friends. He only had one lead at this point. It happened on a recent mission, stopping Talon from slaughtering a train full of people to get a bomb or weapon or something. As he made his way through the train cars, making sure to keep civilians safe, a Talon agent recognized him. Jesse didn't think to keep the guy alive at the time, but after all was said and done and the train was back on track, he went back to look.

It turned out to be an old Blackwatch agent, one of the elites personally trained by Reyes. McCree knew the guy he found was close to the Blackwatch commander, but Reyes was almost a father figure to the cowboy after dragging him off the street and giving him a new chance at life. And that got him thinking.

After the explosion, and search parties went out looking for survivors, they found Reyes. He was dead by the time they found his body, and Angela concluded that he had only died a few moments ago. But she decided to take a plunge, one that Jesse was still wary about today. She used experimental technology, something volatile and mysterious, and brought him back to life. Barely back to life. He wasn't there to see, but now the man he once thought of as a father was a monster. He was bent on taking out old Overwatch agents, now just a shadow that faded in and out of a solid form. He hid behind a faded mask, shaped like a barn owl. Everyone assumed it was a skull, but Reyes told him, one time when they were out trapped in the wilderness on a failed mission, barn owls represented death in Mexican folklore.

Of course, he would choose that to be his persona, going so far to name himself Reaper, and start working with Talon as a notorious assassin. Jesse grimaced at the thought. He remembered the day Reyes told him about Gerard and Amelie, an Overwatch agent and his wife. Talon had apparently been trying to get to Gerard for years, and after so many failures, they went for his wife. Turned her into the perfect assassin. No emotion, blue skin, and almost no heartbeat. You could barely tell she was alive. Reyes hated that, he called Talon disgusting for turning someone into a living weapon, and now he was working for them just the same. And he was literally half dead.

McCree almost jumped, thrown out his thoughts when his phone vibrated. He didn't answer it at first, hand hovering just above his pocket. He'd been off the grid for a while, as far as he knew, no one had his phone number and or email or anything. He hadn't when given his real name out to anyone or thing in years. Sure, he had hookups and made small friendships overtime, but he generally stayed away from relationships. You couldn't stay anywhere for long when you were a wanted outlaw.

The phone continued vibrating, and Jesse signed before reaching into his pocket and taking it out.

Private Number

“What the hell?” He whispered to himself, staring for a few moments, before finally giving in. He raised the phone to his ear, and before whoever it was had the chance to speak, demanded, “Who the hell is this, and how'd you get this number?”

“Calm down, McCree, it's Winston!” A familiar voice laughed nervously over the phone. Jesse stepped back a bit. But a smile pulled at his lips as he steadied himself.

“Nice to talk to you again,” He answered, looking over the old, frayed Overwatch poster on the side of a small gas station, “But how the hell in the hell did you get this number?”

“I had Athena track you down,” The gorilla responded, “We need to talk.”

“How about we catch up a bit first?” McCree asked, raising an eyebrow to himself. He was certainly in a rush.

“I'm hoping we can soon, in person,” Winston retorted, “I’m… issuing a Recall.”

“Wouldn't that be illegal?” Jesse inquired. The PETRAS act had made sure that Overwatch and any of the heroes meeting up again was banned after the explosion. After everything with Blackwatch, they weren't trusted to deal out justice any longer. Not under without government supervision. And usually, the government only responds. after everything bad happens.

“Yes, it would,” Came a reluctant answer, but Winston quickly added, “That's why I'll keep everything we do secret. I've managed to work alone on Gibraltar for as long as I could, but Reaper’s getting more aggressive and a second Omnic Crisis may be coming.”

He did have a point. With everything going on, constant terrorist attacks, innocent Omnics being killed, families being torn apart by war and rising social tension, and Vishkar gaining more power, there was more and more hate and danger growing in the world. And the signs of a second Omnic Crisis were fasting approaching. Mondatta was assassinated, sparking hate between humans and Omnics again, Korea was attacked and MEKA drones were put out the defend from invasion, and now Russia’s Omniminium was being reactivated and putting out more hostile Omnics. The world needed heroes again.

“Yeah,” Jesse sighed, looking back on a sad scene he had stumbled onto just a little while ago. Two Omnics broke down in the street, and a group of teenagers running away before he could do anything, bragging about what they had done the whole time. Of course, police around the area didn't care. “The world is going to shit right now.”

“We need to come back together,” Winston pleaded, “There are organizations like Helix Security and MEKA, but they can only do so much. Overwatch was full of extraordinary people, and if we could bring them back together, and maybe the new heroes emerging today, we could do something!

His small speech was moving, and it made Jesse look back on everything that was happening. The Omnics in the street, Mondatta’s assassination, the Talon attack on the train, the reports he saw every day of towns being attacked or people and Omics being murdered. Something needed to change. And maybe going under the public’s nose and getting everyone back together again was the way to do it.

"You sure we should do his?" Jesse asked, kicking his foot, sending a few small rocks rolling away. He was nervous about what could happen if they were found out, and some of him, no a lot of him, didn't want the chance to face Reyes again. Especially as Reaper. "We could get in big trouble, y'know?"

"I know," Winston sighed, "But we need heroes again. A team of them. What people like Lucio and Hana Song are doing on their own is inspiring, and Tracer and yours' invigilate work is great, but we need to do this on a bigger scale. We need a team again. And we need to act on out own terms before the bad stuff can happen."

"Ok, ok," The cowboy scoffed, "You were always good with speeches. I'll try to get over to Gibraltar as soon as I can. You think anyone else is comin' back?"

"I know Tracer is, and Genji will once he's done dealing with his clan. He told me he's getting in touch with his brother again."

"Hope the bastard doesn't try and kill him again," Jesse retorted. He didn't know Hanzo personally, but from what he's heard from Genji, and the fact that he tried to kill his brother, didn't paint a good picture.

"No, he might actually help us," Winston corrected him quickly. By the tone of his voice, Jesse could tell the scientist was skeptical, but Jesse didn't argue.

"I guess we need as many people as we can get at this point," The cowboy shrugged, and turned around as he spoke. His motorcycle, dark red and surprisingly pricey from a wandering outlaw, sat on the side of the road, illuminated by the street light. The sound of cars rushing by overpowered crickets and peeper frogs you would usually hear at night.

"I'll try and get there as soon as I can. I'm in New England right now, so Spain is a bit of a trip."

"Thank you, Jesse," Winston answered, smile in his voice, and the faint sound of a lid cracking open in the background. "I need as much help as I can get."

"Sure thing," McCree nodded, fishing through his pockets for the keys. "See ya around."

Once the called had ended, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and slung himself onto the motorcycle. Off to Spain, he mused as he slipped his helmet on and started the engine. It would be nice to visit Gibraltar again, a small Watchpoint situated on the Rock of Gibraltar, overlooking the deep blue ocean and colorful coastline cities. It really was a beautiful place, McCree just never appreciated it when he was there, still a little shit being broken into military life by Reyes. Too bad this wouldn't be a vacation. There was still the world to save.


	2. Chapter 2- New Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Talon HQ, hidden deep in the snowy forests of Russia, you come back from a successful mission just to get a new assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about you! You still haven't met McCree yet, but that will come very soon. Thanks for sticking with the story!

Cold air bites your cheeks, and you pull your mask farther up your nose, and your hood forward to cover more of your face. Wind howls through pine trees, accompanying the rumble of the military truck, the kind with an open back, loud banter of the other Talon agents and snow crunching under the wheels. One elbowed you the side, although the your armor made the blow much lighter, to get you to listen, but you shoved his arm away and ignored him. Talon was full of the kind of the people you would think are there. Stupid teens that thought they were hot shit just because they knew how to shoot a gun, and assholes that enjoyed killing, bragged on and on about their last mission and talked about women as if they were slabs of meat.

Yes, you were an assassin, you killed for your own reasons, and Talon’s, but you knew the value of human life. You were an assassin, but you weren't a dick.

“C’mon, why d’ya always have a stick up your ass?” He asked, elbowing you again, this time through the weak part of your armor, so you felt it.

“I will break your arm if you touch me again,” You growled, shoving his hand away, and turning to glare at him. Some of the other mercs whistled and laughed, as you turned back to trees passing by.

“Fuck you too,” He scoffed, and went back to talking with them. You let out a sharp breath, praying for the ride to go by faster. At least the forest was pretty, as snow fell to softly to the ground and the stars glittered in the sky. Talon HQ was placed in a beautiful forest for such a dark organization, full of criminals and deadly assassins. You had always loved walking through the forest, the only thing keeping it from being totally relaxing was the cameras you knew were hidden in the trees. But you chose to ignore them, taking in the crisp air and bird calls. Sometimes you could even see deer as you walked, and you could walk almost as silently as bobcat after so much training so you could get fairly close.

The truck stopped roughly, leaving you grabbing onto the seat for support. Now you were inside a garage, and the forest slowly receded, as the platform went underground, like an elevator. You had gone through the procedure many times before, but you could hear the newest recruits muttering in the back, amazing by the garage. Most of Talon HQ was underground, so it didn't come as a surprise that the vehicle and weapons were hidden there too.  
The elevator ride didn't take too long, and soon you were jumping down from the truck and slipping your mask off of your face. You left the rest of the soldiers behind with no hesitation, ignoring the commanding officers that told everyone to hold back and tell details about the mission. They never really bothered you, just as they never bothered Reaper, Widowmaker or Sombra.

The other three did get to bother you, however. You started training a while after them, so they were still above you. Before you could get a chance to go back to your room, passing through numerous bleak metal hallways, Reaper stopped you. Most of the building was plain gray hallways, wide enough for two people, but there were cafeterias and staff rooms, along with laboratories and the infirmary.

“Mirage.” The first time you didn't listen, so he slipped into wraith form to get in front of you in the hallway. He said your name again, sounding annoyed this time, “Mirage.”

“What?” You sighed, crossing your arms as you came to a stop.

“I need you on another mission.” He answered, and threw a plain manila file at you. You caught it before it could fall, but a single picture escaped.

“Why can't you do it? I just got back,” You asked, leaning down to pick up the picture. You were a little surprised that he gave you a normal file, as usually Sombra would just send information to you. The picture was of two men, one you recognized as the man standing before you, but not as the shadow he was now. He looked normal in this picture, and he was smiling, with an arm wrapped around another younger man. You knew his face from somewhere, but you couldn't put a name on him. You had seen his cowboy hat and scrape, poncho, whatever from somewhere too.

“You need to find him and,” He hesitated, looking down at the picture. Before finishing his sentence, he turned and started walking again. “Just take care of him. He's a threat to Talon and he's an old Overwatch agent. We need to take all of them out.”

“I know that’s you in the picture,” You scoffed, putting said picture back in the file. You’re just making me do this because you have a soft spot, don't you?”

“I’m busy with other people,” He growled back, turning halfway to glare at you. Of course, you couldn't see his eyes through the mask, but you could feel them on you. “Just do it before he becomes a bigger problem.”

“Fine,” You sighed, as he turned and stomped away, rounding the corner with loud footsteps. With him gone, you continued on to your room. Once there, you used your fingerprint to unlock the door, and collapsed on your bed. Your room was about the only other place you could really let yourself relax. Of course, not every soldier had a separate room, most of them had to sleep in the barracks on bunks, but commanding officers, you and the other elites got their own separate spaces. They were plain, like everything else in Talon HQ, but you had decorated your room with more and more little things as you went on missions and traveled.

Reaper always told you off for stopping and grabbing little trinkets, like the time when you stopped in Ilios to grab something from an old gift shop. A small glass gladiator statue that sat on your desk, next to your computer. It was a miracle it hadn't shattered during the mission, and that's one reason why you kept it.

You had managed to grab posters to hang up, and make the room a little more colorful too. Speaking of color, you turned your head to look at the light tan manila file lying on your mostly black bed. Might as well read up a little on him now.

You sat up and scooted to the headboard, grabbing the folder to put on your lap. Once you saw the name Jesse McCree, you recognized him. Reaper’s old student, apprentice or whatever you wanted to call it. He was famous for his sharpshooting, supposedly capable of taking out 6 men in just a few seconds, with a revolver. Now he was a bounty hunter going around America, but with Sombra’s news of Winston issuing an Overwatch Recall, he might be travelling.

The best place to look was Spain, around the Rock of Gibraltar. You sighed, thinking about how different it would be compared to the remote forests of Russia you were in now. But, hey, you could make it into a vacation once the job was done.


	3. Go in for the Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally come face to face with McCree, and he really is handsome this up close.

The first step of every assassination was finding your target. Sombra had helped with security and traffic cameras around Spain, and you found out that McCree was somewhere near Gibraltar, but you needed a more exact location now. So, you listened for names, visiting every bar in the area and staying out late at night. Of course, you didn’t speak Spanish, but that's what the translator programmed into your communication unit, small headphones you used to keep in touch with Sombra and Talon were for. And everything they didn't understand Sombra helped you with. The only lead you'd caught onto so far was a few mumblings about a bounty hunter going around, taking up small jobs, like hunting down gang members and criminals on the streets. What made you so sure it was McCree was how they mentioned that he came from America a few times.

You heard someone say it again as you set down your glass on the smooth counter, ice clinking softly. The bartender was a few feet away, talking to a man sitting 3 stools away from you. He was covered in tattoos, and you could see the outline of a gun in his pocket. Looking closer, there were faint burns around his wrists, either from handcuffs or rope.

“That goddamn bounty hunter is turning in our whole gang, one by one,” The translator provided you with, as he slammed a fist on the table. “Probably going for me next.”

“The American one?” The bartender asked, picking up the glass that almost fell when the other banged the table. “Didn't he just arrive a week ago?”

“I think” The other sighed, resting his forehead on his hand. “I think he's famous over there, ever heard the name, Jesse McCree?”

Once you heard the name, you straightened up in your seat. This might be a good lead if you could get him to tell you anything.

“A few times on the news,” The owner answered, setting down the glass on the counter behind him. “I heard he's dangerous, used to work with Overwatch.”

“Fucking great,” The guy laughed, throwing his hands up.

You decided to step in and turned in the stool. Grabbing your half-finished drink, you slid off the seat and headed for the two. The bartender said something the translator didn't catch, and went off to another customer, leaving the other man behind. Before you reached him, you made sure your gun and knives on your belt were well hidden under your jacket.

“You're worried about McCree?” You asked, moving into the stool next to him, luckily empty.

“Were you listening in on that?” He asked, switching to English, and leaned away from you slightly.

“Not the entire thing,” You retorted, “But I think I can help you.”

“C’mon, you think you can help me?” He scoffed, as he looked you over. It was true, you didn't look like an assassin at first, but that was the point. “What makes you think that?”

You smirked, and reached down to your belt, pulling back the jacket to flash your gun and throwing knives. The gun had a red Talon insignia, and you could see the guy almost gasp when he saw it. His voice became more hushed, “You're with Talon? You're an assassin then?”

“I think I'm qualified,” You nodded, covering the weapons back up.

“Y-Yeah,” He said quickly, “McCree's been going after our gang, one by one. He turns them in, and now the police have even more of an advantage. We're all gonna be gone soon.”

“Where was he last?” You asked, “I need to get him alone.”

“He hangs out around that bar in the north part of town, full of criminals and shit like that. Forget what it's called, but you'll know it when you see it.”

“He's alone usually?” You didn't know how many Overwatch agents responded to the recall, so you wanted to make sure he was going to be alone.

“Sometimes he's with this cyborg dude, and another Japanese guy,” The man shrugged, “I don't know.”

Genji, and probably his brother Hanzo. You'd done your research on old Overwatch agents, and Hanzo Shimada came with the research on Genji. That would make the mission slightly harder, but you could deal with them.

“Thanks,” You nodded and slipped off the stool again. You couldn't wait to get out of the bar, now that you had your information. You'd start tomorrow.

You could hear the people and music of the bar from down the street, and lights danced across the sidewalk in front of the building. The name was Spanish, in bright neon, almost blinding in the night. The moment you stepped up onto the porch, two men pushed through the door and almost threw you down the stairs again. Obviously drunk, they yelled something in their language as they stumbled down the stairs, but you stepped in and closed the door before they could finish. The music was louder than them by tenfold, bass reverberating in your chest as you walked towards the bar. You made your way into the corner and took the empty seat at the very end of the bar. It was quieter there, and you had a good view of the whole building.

You didn’t expect to see something so early, but after a few minutes, a familiar cyborg came in, pulling another man in behind him. The Shimada’s, you thought to yourself as you watched them. Hanzo was obviously not happy with the music and drunk people constantly falling and dancing on him, while Genji looked to be at home. You didn’t know every detail of their past, but you remembered reading that Genji was a playboy, ignoring the clan and his responsibilities. You chuckled to yourself, watching Hanzo grow more and more annoyed as more people bumped into him.

“Now where’s the third…,” You mumbled to yourself as you watched them make their way to the bar. The door opened again, and your attention turned to McCree walking in with his hat in his hand.

He called over to Genji as he put in back on his head, and closed the door behind him. You smiled to yourself. Perfect. Now you just had to hang to back for a bit, then you could try to get him alone. So you waited, watching as he sat with the other two and started talking, laughing and drinking. You hoped he wouldn't get drunk, though. You had a policy against killing people in weak states, like sleeping or drunk. Luckily, he stayed sober from what you saw, and eventually he started heading for you. Genji and Hanzo hung back and went back to talking on their own once he left, but you couldn't see where Genji was looking. He was going to be your only real disadvantage. Being an assassin meant to combat and stealth, but it also meant reading emotions and where others are directing their attentions, and with Genji’s visor, it was hard to do that. But, you ignored it for the time being, and looked down at the counter, to make sure there didn't see you watching him.

“Howdy,” He smiled, sliding into the seat next to you. You looked up, acting surprised. He tipped his hat, jokingly, “You looked lonely off in the corner.”

“I'm fine,” You laughed slightly, turning to him, “But I appreciate the company. I'm Alex.” (Obviously, not your name, just the most gender neutral fake name I could think of at the moment.)

You thought of a fake name on the dot, and you should've thought more, but McCree didn't seem to notice it. “Nice to meet you, darlin’. Name’s McCree.”

“So, why me? Was it really cause I looked lonely?” You decided to ask. You were a bit curious.

“Well, you did, but I also think you looked pretty interesting. And now that I'm closer, you're even more interesting,” He smirked, eyes sweeping over your figure.

Your mouth hung open for a minute until you responded. You weren't used to compliments, and McCree's voice was powerful, accent making it even more charming. “I don't get that a lot.”

“You should,” He hummed, and looked down at your empty glass, “Let me buy you another drink?”

“I wouldn't trust some of the other guys here, but you seem nice,” You shrugged, then sighed, “Besides, I need it.”

“Stressful day at work or something?” He asked, then called over to the bartender in Spanish.

“Yeah, and I've just done a lot of traveling lately,” You shrugged, cold metal of the knives in your belt suddenly a lot more evident. You didn't know exactly why, but you were actually feeling anxious. Usually, you never felt anything.

“Me too,” He laughed, as the tender went to the work on your drink. “What are you in a club like this for?”

“I'm a journalist,” You answered, messing with your sleeve to act embarrassed. “I've been wanting to go to Spain for a while, and I guess I didn't really know the best clubs to go to.”

“Well, you could some stories on the gangs,” He scoffed, as the tender out down the drink he ordered for you.

“Yeah, I'm more here for the scenery,” You smiled, taking a sip, “How about you?”

“Just taking a job,” He answered, and you smiled to yourself. It was always fun having a hand over the conversation like this.

And suddenly there was a bunch of yelling, much louder than before and the sound of glass breaking. Both you and McCree looked back to see a fight starting, one guy already going at the other with a broken bottle in his hand. You saw a perfect opportunity. You weren't surprised, of course, but,you made yourself jump when the guy with the bottle slashed the other across the arm with it.

“Hey, it's fine, let's get you out of here,” McCree seems to notice how scared you were acting, and got up to shield you from any flying glass as the fight got more and more people involved.

You didn't speak as he lead you out of the bar, avoiding the fight, and followed along. Once you had him outside, you could give up the act and go through with the assassination. Usually, missions didn't go this easy, and it almost made you feel wary that something would go wrong at the last minute, but you shrugged it off.

Spain was surprisingly cold at night, and the chilly air made a shiver go down your spine as you stepped out of the building. The door closing left the street quiet, mostly quiet, save for the muffled fighting from the club, and dogs barking the alleyways. You took a moment to watch McCree sigh and turn to you with an apologetic look. The red neon sign cast a bright light over the both of you, the last obstacle before you could go in for the kill. So, you looked around quickly, then suddenly rushed forward, pushing McCree into the alleyway and out of the light.

He wasn't expecting the attack and stumbled back with a gasp. You grabbed a knife from your belt and pressed it to his throat. You were gone to leave it at that, cut his throat and run away, but something made you hesitate.

“Fuck,” McCree swore, grunting in pain when his back hit the wall, and froze when the metal touched his skin. “What are you doing this for? Money?”

“That's part of it,” You shrugged. Talon did pay you for going through with missions, but it was mainly for their cause, and to make up a debt. “But mostly to take out Overwatch.”

“You're with Talon then, Reyes, or Reaper or whatever the hell you wanna call him?” He sighed, a certain sameness in his eyes.

You didn't answer, preparing to kill him when a hand grabbed your shoulder. It wasn't human, that was obvious when you were easily thrown back and cold metal dug into your skin. You cried out in pain when whoever it was slammed their knee into your side, and collapsed. When you looked up, Genji was there, shurikens between his fingers, and McCree was taking using his gun out. Hanzo wasn't far behind, and with him being you, you were cornered.

“You're welcome,” Genji taunted the cowboy and stepped forward as you got back up, and raised your fists in front of you. “You're cornered, you can't run.”

“Nice try, darlin’,” McCree laughed, coming closer after Genji. You were totally still, watching both of them, and occasionally Hanzo, who still hadn't said a word. “But I've got friends.”

“You'll see me again,” You promised, and reached into your pocket slowly. Sombra gave you an EMP just before you left, and at first, you thought you wouldn't need it, but you were wrong.

“You're not going anywhere,” He retorted, and stepped forward, but you threw down the EMP bomb, and he jumped back. It only really affected Genji, who yelled in pain and held his head, cybernetics glitching with the EMP wave, but scared McCree and Hanzo enough to let you run.

You gasped and almost stopped in your tracks as a bullet whizzed past your cheek, so close that you could feel the heat, but once the initial shock went, you were running faster than before. You vaulted over crates and boxes and ran through alleyways until you were sure that you were safe.

Now in a smaller, dark alleyway between a hotel and store, you stopped, slumping onto a pile of crates to catch your breath. Police sirens rang in the distance, then an ambulance, probably off to the fight you had just witnessed. Cold air bites your cheeks and your chest stung as your gulped down air, accompanied with a new large bruise in your side from Genji’s damn metal leg. Time to think of a new plan.


	4. Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your second attempt to take McCree doesn't go to well either, and weird things start happening in your head.

Stakeouts could be the worst thing about missions, or, in your case, the best part. It could be boring if you were in the desert or watching a lonely highway or street, but Spain was beautiful at night, especially as you laid on your stomach on a ledge overlooking the entrance to Gibraltar. The silence, save for distant animal calls and cars, was relaxing. Cold air blew past your cheeks, your face mask lying on the rock next to you, and hood pushed down. The ground was cool and slightly uneven under you, and shrubs created a small cover around you and your rifle. The gun felt heavy in your hands, and your vest felt just a little too tight, but you distracted yourself by watching cars pass by on the main highway.

You heard a sound, like rocks, falling, and turned your attention to the end of the old, battered road. The main entrance, big enough for trucks and troops to go in and out was fenced off, high enough to send someone to the hospital if they fell. You were only waiting on the small cliff facing the road because you were sure McCree was out in town after Sombra tracked him down again. The only thing you saw was a lizard skittering away, under the cover of the same kind of shrubs you were using. Pebbles fell, bouncing down the rock face until they hit the gravel piled up the covered the old blast door entrance.

“So, whatcha doing?” You jumped, rustling the leaves when Sombra's voice came over your small intercom. You reached a hand over to adjust the volume and turn it down a few notches before responding.

“Still waiting,” You answered with a sigh, putting your hand back in the trigger, with the safety and looking through the scope to look on the highway, the intersection where it turned onto the old road. “It's been about an hour.”

“I'll see if I can get into his phone,” You could hear the grin in her voice, and a few small ding sounds as she was typing. You didn't know how she hacked into things like cell phones and traffic cameras, but you definitely appreciated it.

“You can do that?” You asked, moving the rifle slightly to look up and down the road.

“Yep, done,” She answered simply, and the small screen built into your gauntlet came to life. It gave you a small map, with a red dot moving quickly down what you guessed was the highway in front of you. “He's just coming up the highway. Red motorcycle.”

“Wow,” You scoffed, watching the for dot to turn onto the road. You shut the screen off quickly and looked back up, and through the scope to look at McCree, the same brown-haired cowboy, just without that hat. “Thanks. I've got him.”

“Good luck, and don't break any more ribs,” She teased before you heard a click and her catchphrase “boop” as she logged off.

“Fractured,” You corrected, even though you knew they were probably broken after Genji’s knee plate slammed into your side. The dull ache every time you moved was a good reminder. While McCree turned sharply onto the road, red serape whipping around his neck with the change, you pulled on your face mask, securing the buckles in the back before pulling your hood up. You looked through your scope again, and laid still, ignoring the dull pain in your side and stray strands of hair in your face and focusing on just your target.

You held your breath as you took aim, finger hovering just above the cold metal of the trigger, following him in the scope. You waited until he slowed to a stop, and got off his motorcycle to remove his helmet. Before he got it off, though, another person walked onto the scene. Tracer, the former poster hero of Overwatch, with her messy brown hair and orange goggles, zipped up to Jesse. You didn't know why, but your heart suddenly felt heavy in your chest, and a small headache exploded on the side of your head. 

You sucked in a sharp breath and jerked back from the rifle. Maybe you were just getting sick, you told yourself as the headache grew worse. You would have to run after this, you knew it, and that would only slow you down. Opening your eyes again, you went back to the scope, ignoring the pounding in your head and taking deep breaths to chase the tightness in your chest away. You took a deep breath, then held it again, as you brought the scope back up to your eye, and took aim, directly at the back of McCree’s head.

The last time was your fault, for hesitating for long and letting Hanzo and Genji get suspicious. This time, you weren't sure. When you finally steadied yourself, and the crosshair was perfectly in line, another jolt of pain shot through your head, running down to just above your eye this time, and you jerked back again, curling in yourself. In your panic, you pulled the trigger, and the shot rang out, sending your ears ringing. Everything happened at once, and Tracer and McCree yelled for help and you dropped your rifle, holding your head. The pain was still coming in waves.

Based on the fact that he could speak, and the disappointing sound of the bullet settling in the hard rock of Gibraltar, you missed, and you realized you had to get out. Fast. So, you struggled to your feet, still holding your head with one hand and grabbed your gun. You didn't try to aim or take another shot as the world swam before you. You pushed past the brush, stumbling onto the trail you used to get up, one hand pressed to the hard rock for support. You barely noticed when someone stepped in front of you and blocked the path, world fading to black as you collapsed against a man’s chest.

 

You woke up just like you always did, with a cloudy mind and an aching back. The Talon HQ beds were never comfy, and you assumed that you were in one of those. Then you remembered what happened last, the missed shot, the sudden migraine, and falling helplessly into someone. You sighed, refusing to open your eyes, knowing that you were probably in a holding cell or integration room.

“C’mon, I know you're awake,” You jolted up, eyes flying open as a familiar voice rang out, and the first thing you saw was McCree, leaning against the wall, smug and confident. A blonde woman was next to him, holding a clipboard and scribbling down some notes.

“Fuck you,” You retorted, leaning back in the chair. McCree sighed, as the women looked up from her clipboard, glancing between you and said cowboy.

“Aim was a little off back there,” He scoffed, and you glared up at him. Really, though, you had no idea why the headache came so suddenly, and why is was so painful, it was bothering you to no end.

“I don't… know what happened,” You admitted, leaning back on the hard metal bench. Your handcuffs clinked against the wall and you looked down at the ground.

“You shot the ground next to me then stumbled around,” He explained, and you could hear a smirk in his voice, “Looked like you had too much to drink.”

“I had a migraine all of a sudden, I don't know what happened,” You retorted, and looked back up when you heard the woman’s high heels come closer.

“You had a migraine?” She asked, “Just before you took the shot? Was it when you saw Tracer?”

“Why do you care?” You questioned, moving back farther away from her. “You have me in custody, I missed the shot.”

“It’s complicated,” She sighed, and scribbled more notes down on her clipboard. “Is your head feeling fine now?”

“Yeah?” You answered quickly, intent on finding out what the hell she meant by “it’s complicated”. “What do you mean complicated?”

“Tracer could better explain it,” She answered, and slipped the pen back in her lab coat pocket. “Anyway, you'll be placed in this cell, and I'll monitor your health.”

“Why are being so… nice to me? I'm a prisoner! I just tried to kill him!” You struggled against the handcuffs, more an act of defiance. You knew you couldn't get out of them with your bare hands.

“What?” McCree scoffed, pushing himself off the wall to walk over, standing over you with a smirk, “You want us to be me—”

He wasn't able to finish his sentence when the door burst open, with a streak of blue. Tracer. She gasped when she saw you, and you could swear there were tears in her eyes, but you couldn't look at her for long. The migraine returned full force, in the same spot, just above your eyes, on one side of your head. With a small shout of pain, you curled in yourself, struggling against the handcuffs with the instinct to hold your head. The blonde woman, you still didn't know her name, rushed to help you, “What’s wrong?”

You didn't answer, just bit your lip and fought through the pain. It was the exact same headache that was set off by seeing Tracer before. But why the hell would it be set off by a person?

“Is it the same migraine?” The doctor asked, leaning down slightly to rub your back. You growled and jerked away from her.

“Don't touch me!” You spat, and turned to glare at Tracer. She looked lost, heartbroken almost, as she watched you. And now you could see that she was defiantly crying. McCree noticed too and went over to comfort her.

“Tracer?” The blonde one asked, turning away from you. Then, she added, quietly, “This might be a good sign.”

Tracer seemed to ignore her, still focussed on you. You just sighed, leaning back against the wall again, using the cool metal wall to help your head. The headache was still present, just slightly more manageable. There was also a wrong feeling in the back of your mind. Seeing Tracer, it did something to your mind, more intense than the pain.

“She must remember me! Even Widow remembers her husband sometimes!” She pleaded, and you watched with your head leaned back.

“I've never met you,” You answered. Tracer looked even more devastated. “I don't know what the hell any of you are talking about.”


End file.
